


You Have Me

by Tails89



Series: Prompt Warmups [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Sickfic, doting boyfriends, i love these two so much, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 03:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tails89/pseuds/Tails89
Summary: “You have me Stiles, whether it’s here in Beacon Hills or San Francisco or anywhere in the world.”





	You Have Me

Derek can hear it as he approaches the front door warily and takes a suspicious sniff. All he can smell is pack with an extra trace of Stiles that suggests the boy had been at the door recently, but the heart beat inside the apartment doesn’t sound like Stiles, not quite, and there’s something else, something bitter and sour that underlays Stiles’ scent.

Stepping inside, Derek can’t sense anything amiss but the wheezy snores are louder, now that they are no longer muffled by the door. He walks through into the living room, his gaze falling to the couch.

There’s a figure bundled up in the quilt that’s normally covering Derek’s bed.

Derek is cautious as he crosses the room and lifts the quilt away from the body huddled underneath.

“Stiles?” Derek lets the corner of the quilt drop as Stiles shifts and blinks against the warm afternoon light streaming through the window.

“Hey,” Stiles’ glassy eyes blink up at Derek, until he seems to remember where he is. He pushes himself up into more of a seated position and pulls the quilt tighter around his body. “Sorry,” he mumbles, voice low and rasping. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Stiles gestures towards the laptop and papers spread out over the coffee table. “I found some interesting things though.” He coughs to clear his throat and it goes on and on until he’s almost breathless. There are two rosy spots high up on his pale cheeks.

Derek frowns. “What are you doing here?” He asks.

The look Stiles gives him would be more convincing if he didn’t look half asleep with hair plastered to his face. “You asked me to come over.”

“You didn’t tell me you were sick,” Derek argues. “I had to find out from Scott.”

“The snitch,” Stiles grumbles under his breath.

Derek sits beside Stiles on the couch. “And then I told you to stay home,” he says, “this can wait a few days.”

“Ugh, fine,” Stiles slumps and lets his head drop back against the couch, his eyes drifting shut.

“You look awful,” Derek takes in Stiles’ haggard appearance.

Brown eyes blink open. “Jeez, thanks.”

“I’m serious Stiles,” Derek scolds gently. “What were you thinking driving out here like this?” Stiles doesn’t answer him and Derek decides not to push the issue. “Come here,” he says, and pulls Stiles against him.

The human is radiating heat and Derek places a hand against Stiles’ cheek. “You’re really hot,” concern bleeds into his tone as he withdraws his hand.

Stiles tucks his face against Derek’s chest and mumbles.

“What was that?”

There’s no response and Stiles’ breathing even’s out into the steady, but congested, rhythm of sleep.

Derek considers his options. His apartment isn’t really stocked for human illness. There are only three humans in the pack, and none of them get sick very often, Derek’s not even sure he’s ever seen Stiles sick before. It’s disconcerting, seeing him now, but a quick internet search on his phone assures Derek that Stiles should be fine with rest and fluids and a couple of things he can pick up from the pharmacy.

Stiles barely stirs when Derek eases him back down onto the couch. He grabs his phone and keys and ducks out of the house.

It’s dark when he returns. Derek wasn’t gone for more than half an hour, but with winter fast approaching the sun is setting earlier each night.

Stiles is still asleep.

He’s kicked off the quilt and one of his socks hangs half off his foot. It was one of the first things Derek had discovered when they had started sleeping together – Stiles could never be still, flinging his limbs all over the bed unless Derek wrapped his arms around him. Stiles preferred to be the little spoon anyway so it all worked out.

Derek sets his bag on the counter and goes to retrieve the blanket from the floor. He drapes it over Stiles then goes back to the kitchen to start on dinner. He read that chicken soup is a good option for someone with the flu, so he starts chopping carrots and celery, peering over towards the living room periodically to see if Stiles is awake.

It’s not until Derek is serving up the soup that Stiles begins to stir on the couch, coughing into his hands and groaning. Derek leaves the food to cool and heads over to the couch with some of the supplies he bought.

“Hey,” he says softly. Stiles has his back to him, facing the couch. Derek puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. Stiles groans again and tucks his head against the cushion. “Yeah, I know,” Derek murmurs, moving his hand to card it through Stiles’ messy hair. “But I’ve got something for you, should help you feel better.”

He picks up the medicine he’d purchased and waits while Stiles rolls over to face him.

“I thought werewolves didn’t get sick,” Stiles croaks, watching Derek peel off the security foil on the pack of tablets and open it up.

“We don’t,” Derek takes Stiles’ hand and pops two pills out of the pack and into his palm.

 “Then how?” Stiles stares down at his hand and then back up at Derek.

“How do you think?” Derek asks. “It’s the 21st Century Stiles, what idiot doesn’t know how to use google? Take the pills.”

Stiles does as he’s told, reaching for the glass of water Derek has ready for him. He takes a small sip, wincing as he swallows the pills. He sits up slowly, stiffly, hugging one of the cushions.

 “You googled me?” Stiles’ eyes widen. “You love me.”

“Shut up,” Derek says fondly. “You hungry?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Not really.”

“You should eat anyway,” Derek tells him. He gets up to fetch their bowls and hands the smaller portion to Stiles. “Have some and I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

They sit together on the couch. Derek puts a movie on while they eat and Stiles manages a couple of mouthfuls before giving up. Derek decides to call it an early night. He shoots the Sheriff a text explaining that Stiles is unwell and staying at his and gets a reply telling him thanks and an invite for dinner once Stiles is back at college. This is not how either of them had planned to spend Stiles’ college break.

Stiles spends most of the next day sleeping. Derek wakes him to eat something and drink something and take his medicine. He goes over the research Stiles had brought him and potters around the apartment, ear trained towards the bedroom in case Stiles needs anything.

On the third day, Derek sets up Stiles’ laptop in the bedroom and watches movies while Stiles dozes. On the fourth day Stiles begins to grumble that he’s bored. His fever has broken so they move back to the couch, dragging Derek’s quilt with them. They go over Stiles’ research and watch more movies and nap tangled up in the couch.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Stiles toys with his sleeve. He’d managed to drag himself to the shower and was now dressed in a pair of Derek’s sweats. “I’m graduating this year,” his voice is still scratchy and hoarse, so Stiles has to clear his throat a couple of times to continue, “and I was thinking I could move back in with Dad, or…” he trails off and looks up at Derek expectantly.

“Or you could move in with me?” Derek finishes for him.

“I mean, I’m over here pretty much all the time when I’m at home anyway,” Stiles points out, “but maybe also, you could move in with me?” He hurries to explain. “Because it depends on if I get a job, right? Or where I get a job. And this-“ he gestures between them. “I want this and I want you and maybe we’re moving a little fast?” Stiles barely pauses for breath. “But maybe not, it’s been four years. Well, not like we’ve been _together_ together for four years but we had something and-“

“Stiles?” Derek cuts him off. “Yes.”

“I uh,” Stiles licks his lips nervously. “Not sure which question you’re answering right now.”

Derek reaches for the fidgeting hands picking at the blanket. “You have me Stiles, whether it’s here in Beacon Hills or San Francisco or anywhere in the world.”

“I-“ Stiles’ whole body slumps in relief. “Okay, good. That’s good.” He lets Derek pull him close. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Derek holds Stiles close nuzzles against his damp hair. The movie plays on in the background, forgotten.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come send me a prompt on Tumblr](https://tails89.tumblr.com/)


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